Like You, Love You
by Futakuchi Onna
Summary: Valentine's fic; ten scenes for Dawn and Connor. ConnorxDawn, mild WillowxKennedy


Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel.

Dedicated to the sublime Alice Everafter.

_I. War_ _(The First)_

The first time Dawn met Connor was in a war. Dawn was fighting, of course - where else would she be, what else could she do? Everyone she loved was here. And she was boxed in - crowded into a corner, in an out of the way alley, surrounded by demons and vampires. Three hungry griffons circled above, bellowing war cries and screeching her death in ugly tones.

And then he came charging through, blade swinging, and hacked apart every night creature in sight. He didn't even bother to ask if she was alright - just grasped her hand and pulled her to back into the fray alongside him.

The rest of the battle he fought with her. There was no safety, no high ground to retreat to. The whole city had become a battle, and they were just two soldiers in the middle.

They saved many, many humans that day, and proved that they were a force to be reckoned with - the Key and the Destroyer, side by side and saving the world. She liked the sound of that.

_II. Reunion_

They met again after the war, when Buffy and the rest of the Slayers invited Angel and his team to live with them. When Dawn saw Connor, her face broke into an iridescent smile. He blushed and grinned shyly at her, and they both slipped away to a secluded corner of the grounds where they could talk in peace. Neither of them caught the amused smiles traded by Buffy and Angel.

They wandered back after dark, standing close together but not quite touching. When Connor moved to hold the door for her, their shoulders brushed, and Dawn felt her face heat up. She smiled at him nervously and thought about how different he was off the battlefield. Not bad, just... different.

Quieter, for one thing. He almost seemed shy. His movements were inherently graceful and altogether human, from every shift of his weight from foot to foot to the way he brushed his brown hair out of his eyes when he was thinking.

Dawn found that she liked this Connor even more.

_III. Grave_

The gravestone was simple and clean. It held an unremarkable epitaph, carved deep into it's granite surface. 'Buffy Summers, beloved friend, daughter and sister.' Dawn preferred the one back in Sunnydale - the one on the grave Buffy climbed out of, one dark cold night. 'She saved the world a lot.' It fit better.

And Connor's arm fit just right around her waist. She leaned against him, suddenly tired, and buried her face in his shoulder. His jacket smelled of blood and demons and death, scents she'd had enough of to last a lifetime.

It seemed he understood this, because he pulled her around so that she could bury her face in his neck, which smelled of Connor and nothing else.

The sight of the grave was more bearable this way.

_IV. Alcohol_

Dawn curled up against his side, trying to fill the void her sister left with something,

anything really, so that she didn't have to feel it anymore. She nursed a bottle of some alcoholic drink Spike had recommended - he'd said it was good for dealing with the pain. Connor had one, too. They'd been here all night, after the funeral, not talking or anything, just keeping each other company. Connor probably would have said 'not letting each other be alone'. He hated having to leave things alone.

His arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer, and he buried his face in her hair. She twisted around and pressed her own face against his shoulder, and let tears streak down her face. She gave out a strangled, hiccupy sob.

"Shh," he murmured. "It's okay, I've got you, you won't be alone."

They stayed that way for the rest of the night.

_V. Date_

They went on their first official date seven months after Buffy's third and final death. It would have been a normal date between two normal people (well, at least they'd pretend to be normal for the night, instead of freaks of nature), except that Spike was lurking in the shadows, 'making sure that Peaches Junior didn't do anything to his dear little Bit', and Xander was trying to be inconspicuous in a trench coat and shades, and Willow was floating above them, magically invisible for optimum spyage, and all of the tables around them were full of Slayers keeping an eye on their favourite ex-Key Watcher-in-training.

To make a long story short, Dawn eventually got sick of the agitated, hovering Spike, the badly disguised Xander, and the hordes of Slayers masquerading as 'normal teenage girls out for a night on the town'. As if normal teenage girls traveled in carefully selected squads that best exploited their various talents and weaknesses and carried duffle bags full of various pointy weapons for slaying Miracle Children who got too grabby.

Halfway through the movie, Dawn shouted at them to _leave_, and they all eventually complied, although a few of the more fanatical Slayers had to be dragged away by their comrades.

However, Dawn never noticed Invisi-Will, and although Connor had caught her scent immediately, he didn't point it out, because that was a whole new can of worms, and Willow reported back to the Slayers (and a frantic Xander and Spike) that they were _fine_, and that this whole fiasco had been unnecessary. Not all of them agreed, but they kept their objections to themselves, because nobody wanted to get in the way of an annoyed Willow. Her roots were already showing dark.

_VI. Flowers_

Dawn yawned and stumbled out of bed sleepily on her birthday. She staggered around her room, fumbling for a shirt and pants, ran a brush through her hair a few times but gave up after the sixth major snag, and once the morning-induced haze had lifted, searched around for her lesson plans. She had a class to teach today - Willow and Kennedy had gone gallivanting off again, and as usual Dawn was left to pick up the slack.

It wasn't that she didn't want them to go. They were young(ish) and in love. She couldn't begrudge them their time together. She just wished that Kennedy would think about who would have to do Willow's work, the next time she felt like sweeping her Wiccan girlfriend off her feet for a romantic getaway.

She stopped grumbling to herself when she found the lesson plans, somehow shoved down to the bottom of her sock drawer. There were infinite ways they could have gotten there (or at least, there were as many ways as there were Slayers in the Scotland HQ, about seventeen hundred) so she didn't linger on it. Instead, she stuffed them into her bag and stepped out of her bedroom door.

Crunch.

Dawn looked down. She'd stepped on a bouquet of sunny daffodils, lying in the doorway. She picked the up and examined the card curiously. '_To Bit/Dawnie, from Spike and Mini Forehead. Happy Birthday!' _Dawn smiled. Her day was looking up.

_VII. Believe_

Dawn was crying again. She was sobbing, face twisted up and tears pouring out. Connor wished he could help, wished he could tell her it'd all be okay, but he couldn't - wouldn't. She, like him, had been lied to enough. He wasn't going to become just another empty promise. So instead he gritted his teeth and told himself that he could reassure her later, when his guts weren't literally spilling out.

One of the newer Slayers, a pretty, usually smiling redhead who'd immediately enlisted as a Wicca, was bent over him, hands glowing gold and lip bleeding because she'd bitten it in her worry. She was healing him, he knew - couldn't tell if it was working, because he still hurt the same, but he hoped it was.

Dawn's hand slipped into his.

_VIII. Friends_

Spike glared suspiciously at Connor. "What, exactly, are your intentions towards my little Bit?" Connor stared at him, mild confusion evident in his eyes.

"Um... to date her?" Spike scowled.

"Yeah, I bloody know that, I mean what are your _intentions_?" Connor sighed.

"Those _are _my intentions. I like Dawn. I'm dating her. That's it." Spike snorted.

"Yeah, right. If that's all, I'll eat my hat!"

"You're not wearing a hat," Connor observed.

"It's the principle of the thing!" Spike spluttered. Connor shook his head. Dawn sure had some weird friends.

_IX. War (The Last)_

This couldn't be happening. He just couldn't be dead. Never. It couldn't be true.

Connor's body was sprawled across her knees, his blood splattered over her face. The demon who had killed him lay a few feet away, dead as a doornail, with Dawn's own sword pinning him to the dirt. Dawn didn't even remember deciding to throw it.

It felt like revenge, though, bubbling up from within her and lashing out at the nearest person to anger the Key. Pushing Connor off of her legs, she shakily stood. She could feel her power welling up beneath her skin. It wanted to be set free. Dawn gave it it's liberation.

Brilliant green light flashed out, obliterating every demon unlucky enough to stand in it's path. Mercifully, the Key energy spared the Slayers and their allies.

But Dawn's girl-shape was destroyed in the space of an instant.

_X. Forever_

Spike crouched before the row of graves. He dutifully didn't look at Bit's. That plot of earth would break his heart. But he found that time had taken the edge off the other graves. Buffy - well, it still killed him a little bit inside every time he saw her name on a chunk of rock, but he was getting accustomed to living without her. He'd missed Xander a surprising amount - he'd never really gotten along with the one-eyed human, but they'd come to an agreement in their last years around each other. They'd had each other's backs.

Finally, he turned to look at Dawn's grave. It was a ways down from the others. She was buried between Connor and Kennedy. There was a young woman, scruffy and sorrowful, standing before the grave. A familiar scent hit Spike's nostrils - a familiar tang of too much energy and not enough little girl. Spike hurried towards her.

"Bit." His voice was hoarse and choked, but she smiled at him anyways.

"Spike." Her gaze returned to her grave, and silence held for a moment. Then, "I can't stay. I'm dead. They barely allowed me this." She waved at herself to indicate what she meant.

"I know." Spike's voice was soft.

"I just wanted to say goodbye. And to tell you that I'm happy." She smiled at him. "It's just like Buffy said. It's perfect." Spike realized with a jolt that her edges were starting to blur. She was leaving. He reached for her hand, but her fingers curled away, melted transparent.

"I can't..."

"I get it. The PTB are taunting me, huh? Showing me just what I want and not giving it to me. Bloody bastards." Spike sighed and turned away. He couldn't watch her leave.

"Bye, Spike."

"Be seein' you, Dawn."


End file.
